


Accio Bottle

by KateKintail



Series: The Great Beyond [21]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Arguing, Child Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 09:09:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/660247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateKintail/pseuds/KateKintail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A jealous!Marcus and alcohol do not mix well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accio Bottle

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: threats of non-con, implied abuse
> 
> Written for the May Madness story-a-day challenge 2012 on LiveJournal/InsaneJournal

If you were a Quidditch star with a mildly rabid fan following, you could never be too careful. The anti-aparation spells kept Oliver Wood from going straight into the flat he shared with Marcus Flint, so he wound up in the hallway, just outside the door. He slipped out of his shoes and carried them in hand, hoping he would be quiet enough not to wake Flint. But when he opened the door, a wand lit the darkness in a small circle around one seat of the couch.   
  
Oliver dropped his shoes and Marcus dropped the bottle of whiskey. “The fuck have you been?” came Flint’s voice, gruff and slightly slurred. Oliver wondered where the bottle had come from; they’d agreed not to keep any in the flat. Not after what happened last time.   
  
Acting on an instinct that told him to protect himself, Oliver pulled out his wand. Flint just chuckled, but it wasn’t his usual chuckle. It was cruel, edged with annoyance. It made Oliver just grip his wand more tightly. This wasn’t his Marcus any more.  
  
“I told you I was going out to see Percy.”  
  
Eyes burned at him from across the room. “You didn’t tell me you’d be out past two. Accio bottle!” The whiskey bottle soared upward and he caught it roughly around the neck before twisting off the top and taking a swig.   
  
“We got to talking and lost track of time. Suddenly the bar up and closed on us. You know how it is with old friends. And Percy’s going through some stuff just now, with the anniversary of Fred’s death coming up and his baby sister getting married. He needed a shoulder.”   
  
Another gulp. “Am I supposed to believe that was all you gave him?”  
  
Oliver knew where this was going and wished it wouldn’t. “Aye. Of course. Flint, he and I are history. Ye know that.”  
  
Not for anything was Flint one of the fastest chasers in the league. He was on Oliver in a second, wrenching the wand away and then pinning him against a bookcase. Shelves, book spines and bookends dug into Oliver’s back, but he held his tongue, refusing to show signs of weakness. Flint stank of alcohol and was unusually forceful. “I need proof. Need to make sure you were faithful. Need to make sure you’re still mine.”   
  
“Fuck, Flint. Ye’re drunk.” He pushed Flint’s hand away as it tried to paw at his waistband. Nothing and no one—not even his boyfriend—was going to get past this keeper tonight.  
  
Marcus tried to pull his wrist out of Oliver’s tight grasp, flailing, dropping the bottle again, this time open so that the whiskey spilled onto the rug. “Nah. Not as drunk as my old man got when he—” He broke off, froze, mouth closing. He gazed into Oliver’s eyes, suddenly recognizable again. And vulnerable. “Aw, shite.”  
  
Oliver pulled him close, wrapping both strong arms around the man who, after two years of this, still couldn’t get control over his jealousy. Not caring about what was poking into his back, Oliver turned his attention to what was poking into his front. Marcus Flint was undeniably drunk, but not too drunk to stay soft when rubbing up against his lover.   
  
“C’mon. Let’s go to bed,” Oliver suggested, rubbing a hand up and down Marcus’ back.   
  
Weakly, Marcus nodded against Oliver’s chest. In embarrassed apology, he kissed Oliver’s breastbone, nuzzled his face against Oliver’s neck, and then pulled back a little. He reached down and, for a moment, Oliver thought he was going for the bottle. Instead, he plucked Oliver’s wand off the floor, used it to vanish the bottle and contents, then surrendered the wand to its owner.   
  
Oliver kissed him for this. So strong and so good that Marcus, frotting against Oliver’s leg, didn’t even make it to the bedroom.


End file.
